So I was watching the Texas Rangers play somebody on ESPN because I was in a baseball mood, and the Mariners had already played (and probably lost). Of course, just the mere fact of me rooting for the Rangers doomed them in this game, too, but at least somebody hit a home run. If you've been to Safeco Field, you know that they shoot off a few fireworks when a Mariner hits a home run, and this has been a pretty small line item in the budget this month. Well, when a Ranger hits a home run, there are not only some fireworks, but also they play the theme song from The Natural. If you remember the movie, you know young baseball prospect Roy Hobbs impregnates his aw-shucks hometown girlfriend, but then falls for a femme fatale on his way to the big leagues and forgets all about his sweetheart. The movie's worth seeing, if only to see Glenn Close play a non-bizarre role. In fact, she's so non-bizarre in the movie that another character says of her to Roy, "Ain't she a peach?"
No dead rabbits here.
I think of peachy Glenn Close and baseball whenever peaches come in season because they epitomize summer. The rosy glow, the sweetness that comes with long summer days, the juice running down your chin, that heavenly smell when they ripen.
Peaches are here, people! The first varieties are cling, so not for making pies and cobblers, but just for eating out of hand, after they've developed on the counter a couple days and you can smell the aroma when you draw near.
Strawberries are hanging on, sugar snap peas are getting raggedy and tougher, but peaches and blueberries are just going to get more and more numerous in the coming weeks. The first apricots appeared, too, to my delight. For those of you who like your fruit more compact and not so drippy, there they are, and I sent out the high-alert to my jam-making friend.
And we've still got cherries, in interesting varieties:
So we'll see you this week. Summer baseball may be a bust in the Pacific Northwest, but our fruit hasn't failed us yet.
